Nolan hated it when Tobias was right. After months of pestering, his eldest brother physically put him in the car and drove him to the best local Big and Tall store for a new wardrobe. He’d balked at the cost, but when the attendant had chosen clothes a full three sizes smaller than he currently wore, he reconsidered. During the subsequent weeks, Nolan had to admit he felt better wearing clothes that actually fit him. And tonight, Bridget’s reaction? Yeah, he liked that a lot.

He used Bridget’s distraction by the band to study her. He liked the way he could see the curve of her neck when she pulled her hair up into a messy knot on the top of her head. She sat with one muscular arm looped over the back of the chair; he liked looking at that, too, as well as the large compass tattoo she had on her back and the small scrolls that wound their way over her shoulders and down the inside of her arms.

She rocked and swayed in the high top chair, her eyes closed, completely submerged in the music. A few couples swung around the dance floor, accompanied by Tobias’s pedal steel guitar, and Nolan surprised himself by laying his hand on Bridget’s bare arm and motioning with his head toward the dance floor. He was even more shocked when Bridget beamed at him. She hopped out of her chair and shimmied across the dance floor, beckoning him to follow. He hesitated for a split second and then joined her.

They danced until the band took a break, and then Tobias joined them at the high top. Bridget kept bumping his shoulder and tempting him with flirty touches that made him want to reciprocate by stroking the inky designs on her skin. Nanda and Dig had gone home, with Nanda giving Bridget a knowing look and a reminder that they had “that thing” tomorrow, which Nolan assumed was some sort of woman code for “kiss and tell,” though he doubted there would be any kissing. But a guy could dream, right?

When Bridget had excused herself to go to the restroom, Tobias leaned close to him and said, “She likes you. You should do something about it.”

Nolan started three separate sentences, but then he just smiled weakly and shrugged. Why in the world would a woman like Bridget be interested in a guy like him? And anyway, he wanted to avoid any potential for awkwardness, so he was just going to keep his hands to himself, as much as he didn’t want to.

Tobias scoffed at him. “You’re going to regret it. But I’m not saying anything.” He tapped on the table, and Nolan heaved a sigh. The tapping was always a precursor to Tobias giving some usually unwelcome but useful advice, so Nolan gritted his teeth and steeled himself.

“Okay, yeah, I’m gonna say something else,” Tobias began. But then he said, “Oh, fuck me. What the hell is he doing here?”

Nolan turned around and saw his father striding through the bar, straight for their table. He carried a fiddle case in one hand and wheeled his oxygen with the other.

“Did you tell Cal I was playing here?” Tobias ground out.

“No, man. I haven’t talked to Cal all week.”

“Fuck.”

Chet Harper put the instrument case on the table. “Boys,” he wheezed. “What a serendipitous meeting.”

“What a crock of horseshit,” Tobias spat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We’d come into town for some supper, and Candy thought she’d heard that you were playing somewhere around here, so we stopped in.” He fixed his rheumy eyes on Tobias. “Thought you might let your old man sit in for a set or two.”

And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, a platinum blonde—all hair, shiny lip gloss, and tits—tottered over to the table.

“There you are, Chet. Why didn’t you wait outside for me like I asked you to?”

“Because I didn’t want to, Candy.” Chet didn’t look at his wife because he was too busy having a staring contest with this firstborn child. Nolan thought he was going to be sick. They hadn’t had a public confrontation in a few years. Unfortunately, a gap usually promised something very ugly.

“Hello, Toby, Nolan.” Nolan nodded at the woman but didn’t meet her eyes. Tobias ignored her and spoke directly to his father.

“You’re goddamn crazy if you think you’re playing today.” Tobias’s voice was soft and lethal. “So why don’t you and your . . . ,” he said and cut his eyes to Candy for a split second before continuing, “go on home.”

“Sorry, Nolan, I got to talking to the owner about . . . Oh.” Bridget looked around the table, and then she looked at Nolan as if searching for a signal. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and swallowed hard.

“Well, who do we have here? Nolan? Surely she’s not with you?” Chet laughed. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Nolan held his breath as Bridget’s dark eyes flashed.

“Not ‘sweetheart,’ that’s for fucking sure.” She and Nolan’s father locked eyes, and for once, Nolan wasn’t sure his father would win this particular stare down.

“Spirited. That’s a change.”

Bridget glanced at the fiddle case on the table and then did a double take.

“Oh my God. You’re the Harpers, aren’t you?” Bridget coughed an incredulous laugh. “Holy shit.”

Chet inclined his head. “That we are.”

“Wow, okay. My father is a traditional musician, and I grew up listening to you.” Her bright smile melted into the hard line of her mouth. “I’ll have to tell him I met you.”

“You do that. Sweetheart.”

Meghan Sullivan, the manager of Foley’s Public House, approached the table.

“Tobias, sorry, but because of the new construction, there’re new noise ordinances. I hadn’t realized how late it was. You’re not going to be able to do another set.”

“Sure thing, Meghan. Wouldn’t want to piss off people right off the bat, right?”

Meghan looked around the table and then turned back to Tobias. “Thanks for understanding. Great set earlier. Come find me before you leave.”

Tobias shrugged and held up his hands. “Sorry, Chet. No more sets.” He leaned across the table. “Now get the fuck out.”

Tobias stalked away from the table, leaving Bridget, Nolan, and the Harper patriarch and his wife standing around the high top. Chet grabbed the fiddle case and his oxygen tank and started out the door, not saying good-bye to his children and merely barking, “Candy! Now!” as he stomped out the door.

Nolan swallowed hard, and he jolted when Bridget slid her hands around his arm and laid her head on his bicep.

“Nolan, I’m so sorry.”

He huffed a laugh and looked down at her. She was looking up at him, eyes full of compassion.

“He’s dying, you know. His insides are just as rotten and toxic as his personality.”

“I know he’s your father, but the man’s a prick.”

Nolan laughed at her very accurate assessment, and without thinking, pulled Bridget into his arms. He felt her arms wrap around his waist and give him a little squeeze. Bridget rested her head on his chest and rubbed his lower back, soothing him, and he wished, again, that he’d be the type of man who would be worthy of her.